The Nightmare Before Dawn
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: Sammy...Sammy, help me." Short drabble out of boredom! Hurt!Dean NO WINCEST! NO SLASH! rated M for violent situations and some sexual abuse Complete 2 shot
1. Chapter 1

**The Nightmare Before Dawn**

"Sammy…Sammy, help me." Sam sat up instantly, looking around the room wildly and saw nothing. He shouldn't see anything. Dean wasn't here. He was helping Bobby with a hunt. Then why did he just hear that voice? That voice that held enough plea to give him a heart attack. His brother's voice. He looked around the Motel room. Dean's bag wasn't there, his bed was still made and the bathroom was empty.

But he heard that voice, clear as a bell in his ears. Didn't he? He waited. Maybe he'd been dreaming. Silence. Waiting. More silence.

He dared to let himself lie down again, remembering that Dean promised he'd be back by tomorrow. He'd just been dreaming. His eyes were heavy and closed easily. He was dozing.

"Sammy, please. Please…help me." the voice whimpered. Sam sat up, leaping up out of the bed quickly.

_Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean!_ He looked outside. No Impala. No Impala, no Dean, right? He snatched his phone and dialed Bobby's number at lightning speed.

"M'ello?" Bobby's sleep thick voice said.

"Bobby, is Dean with you?" He asked. He was delirious, that was all. In a moment Bobby would ask if he wanted to talk to him. He would say yes and Dean would bitch at him for waking him up this early. Sam was just hearing things from a lingering nightmare.

"No." His hopes fell to the floor with a horrible crash and shattered. His heart clogged his throat and everything in his stomach are turned to ice.

"But, but he was helping you with a hunt, right?" Sam asked, frantic.

"We called that hunt off three days ago. Just some nut with a chainsaw. What's wrong, Sam?" Bobby was fully awake now, fear making him do so.

"Dean's not here. He hasn't been. He said he'd be back by tomorrow…"

"It'll take me all night to get there, but I'll be there soon, okay?" Bobby said.

"Okay." Sam choked. The line went dead; Sam went numb. What was going on? He heard Dean's voice, he was sure of it. Was it in his head? Maybe this was some weird spell that allowed them to talk with their minds. But he was _so sure_ he _heard _it. Sam dropped the phone, unable to hear the dial tone or anything else other than his own heart beat.

Dean was gone, again. No idea where he was. No idea whether he'd see him again.

"Sammy!"

Sam looked in the direction of the noise.

"God…Please, help me. Please, Sammy, please! It hurts…so much." The voice was soft, close to whimper.

"Please…" That was a whimper.

"Dean?" Sam said, listening intently for a reply.

"Sammy…"

Sam walked toward the door. He'd looked outside minutes ago, but the busted streetlight made it hard to see, and he was looking for a car. He ripped the door open and looked around.

"Dean?" He repeated. It was so damn dark.

"Here, Sammy…Please…" Sam turned. His stomach flipped at least four times. Tears sprang in his eyes and horror shooed the blood away from his face.

Dean was tied to the broken light pole, bloodied, beaten, naked and broken.

"Dean." He rushed to his brother, immediately putting a hand on his face as a source of comfort.

"Sammy…Get me down, please…please Sammy." Dean begged. Sam nodded and went to remove what was holding his brother to this awful thing. His stomach rolled again when he recognized it. Barbed wire. He wouldn't be able to get this off of him without cutting it off. Sam stared at it for a beat, before Dean whimpered in pain again.

"Okay, Dean, I have to go inside and get some wire cutters, okay?" He said, looking into his brothers wounded eyes. Dean nodded.

"Hurry…please." Sam turned and ran as fast as he can into the motel room. He dove in his bag, thanking God that he was too lazy to put these back in the trunk yet. He ran back outside, touching Dean's face again before he starts to cut the wire away. Dean moaned and gasped while Sam unraveled it, wincing as the barbs came unstuck. Dean fell forward when it was gone; Sam caught him with strong arms able to support his weight. He moved Dean into the room as quickly as possible, lied him down on the bed, shut the door and ran for the first aid kit. Questions would come later.

He came back, flicking on the lamp on the table next to him. Dean winced at the sudden change and blinked several times to get used to it.

Sam tried not to look horrified as he looked at the wounds on Dean's body. Savage burns, shallow and deep cuts, black and blue bruises, he was surprised Dean was still conscious. Or alive. He looked in his brother's fever laden eyes, which were bloodshot, wide, and –to Sam's anguish- wounded and innocent. Never in his life had he seen Dean this way. He was so damn scared, so broken. And in such a short amount of time. Whoever did this knew damn good and well what they were doing. And they knew what would hurt his brother most.

"God, Dean, what happened to you?" He whispered. Dean shut his eyes and whimpered, a tear slipping out from underneath a closed lid.

Sam set to cleaning up his big brother, and Dean relieved what had happened these past few days.

***

Darkness. Pure and utter darkness. He could see nothing, he could hear nothing. He felt cold concrete pressing against his back. He felt the air touching him all over, which meant he was naked. He felt the nasty bump on his head from where he had been hit from behind. He felt the barbed wire holding his wrists together above his head.

He had no idea where he was or why he was there, and he never would.

***

The blows were coming from nowhere. He wished to God he could see, so at least he knew what was coming. But that was a luxury that had been taken away from him. Another strike to his face. Another to his ribs, another to his legs, another that barely missed his groin.

They laughed when he cried out. They laughed when he begged. But otherwise, silence. Total silence.

They left laughing, leaving him trying not to cry and trembling in the cold. He wanted something to eat. He wanted something to drink. And he wanted his little brother.

***

He squirmed, trying to get away from that horrible blade, his wrists complaining as he did so. He was desperate, helpless, and at these monster's mercy. He doubted they had any. The knife jabbed at his neck. The blade was removed and he looked around, as if he could see, trying to anticipate its next move.

The icy blade trailed up his inner thigh, making him whimper and try to wriggle away. The knife reached the top of his leg and ran down the inside of his thigh. He screamed, pain blinding him. The man laughed in his throat. He moved the blade back to his neck. He sliced Dean for eons, enjoying every second of it.

He screamed for his baby brother, making the man laugh more and cut deeper. He begged for an end. And when it came, he wasn't sure if he would make it to tomorrow.

***

He couldn't move anymore. All he could do was watch the glowing end of the poker dart toward him and burn him. He pleaded, cried, begged for death, but that faceless thing had no conscience, it merely did what it was told. It burned him and burned him. The pain was so excruciating he threw up, though there was nothing left in his stomach. Laughter was heard in this endless darkness. Dean hid his sobs until the man was done. He cried himself to sleep, unaware that there was still more torture to come.

***

He swayed as the leather hit his back again. A harsh SNAP filled the room. He whimpered and sobbed, finding no way to block this agony. Another stroke of the whip. More laughter from invisible faces in the dark. When would this nightmare end?

_Death, let me die, please!_ He no longer cared if the angels needed him. He wanted peace. Just some shred of peace, some sliver of dignity. But he had been stripped of that as well as his clothes.

Another stroke. Another, another, another, another, another…

It was never ending. That's why he was so confused when it suddenly stopped. He listened to his deep gulps for breath mingled with harsh sobs and heard nothing else. A bright light blinded him from the corner. A door. Figures danced through it before he was plunged into night again. 72 hours of this was enough to kill anyone. But not him. He had a brother to worry about. He couldn't give up.

***

He was thrown unceremoniously into the bed of a truck. His eyes had been taped over, but he was still denied the right to be clothed. No one was in the bed with him, which allowed him to cry, huddled together, freezing. After what seemed like forever the truck came to a halt.

Calloused hands ripped him from the bed and threw him to the rock covered ground. He gasped, the wind leaving his lungs. They hauled him up and slammed him against something hard and unforgiving. The wire was taken from his wrists and he attempted to fight back. Rough hands pushed his arms down with little effort.

More wire was stretched across his chest, wrapping him in it. It stuck in his arms, his stomach, his sides and in one place his neck.

The tape was ripped from his eyes when the truck started. He saw nothing. The headlights flashed in his face and he immediately had to clamp his lids closed.

It took a moment after they were gone to adjust to the bright light around him that most people would see as incredibly dim. He saw he was at a motel. And through the window he saw his brother's sleeping figure.

"Sammy," He called weakly. "Sammy, help me."

***

Dean winced as the alcohol touched his shredded back, burning like a mother. He bit his already bloodied lip to stifle a scream. Sam gently rubbed the back of his head, whispering his apologies. Tears leaked from his eyes onto the pillow underneath him. He wanted the pain to stop. That was all he wanted.

Once he was stitched and wrapped he rolled onto his damaged back, deciding the pain on his front was worse than his back. He was thankful Sam had covered him up.

Sam…Sammy…

A water bottle was tipped into his mouth. He drank greedily, downing the entire thing quickly. Sam took it away from his cracked lips and looked down at him.

"Sammy…" Dean rasped. Sam caressed his forehead.

"Shh…" He soothed. "It'll be okay, Dean. You're safe now." Dean whimpered, his lead weighted hand trying to reach his little brother's shoulder.

"Sammy…"

Sam leaned down. Dean got a grip on his shoulder and tried to pull himself up. The younger Winchester understood what Dean wanted then.

He carefully wrapped an arm around Dean's back, sat up, and hugged him. Dean hugged him back, burying his face into his neck, sobbing.

If Sam wasn't scared before, he was now. How whatever took him broke him like this he didn't know. He wanted to know what did this to his brother. He wanted to find it and kill it as slowly as he could for this. And he wanted his brother to be okay.

"Shh…" Sam said, cupping the nape of Dean's neck. "It's over, Dean. It's over. Sh…"

"It was so dark. So dark, Sammy." Dean cried.

"It's okay, they can't hurt you anymore." Sam assured.

"I don' even know what they wanted." Dean whimpered.

"Doesn't matter," Sam said. "You're alive, and you're safe."

"It was like Hell, Sammy." He said softly. Sam swallowed hard and hugged his big brother a little tighter.

Dean cried all night. And Sam held him. He watched the sun come up and heard Bobby pull up before he realized Dean had fallen to sleep just moments before. And he was glad. The exhaustion had been too much for Sam, let alone for his big brother. Dean's breathing was rhythmic, his sleep deep. But Sam didn't let go. Dean was still clutching him like he would disappear, like it wasn't real. Sam refused to let Dean think that he had left him even for a second. So he held on, resting his cheek on the top of his head, finally allowing his own tears to break free. Bobby opened the door and asked what happened.

Outside, a piece of paper floated away from the motel. One that went unnoticed by Sam in his rush to get Dean untied from the pole. It was written in Dean's blood and said:

_Castiel,_

_Surrender._

_-Alastair_

--Thank you, please review--


	2. Chapter 2

--Yeah, I lied. Sorry. ( DeanXCas is NOT intended here, so please don't take it that way)--

**The Nightmare Before Dawn**

Castiel appeared outside the motel, confused as to why Dean's car was nowhere to be seen. He knew Dean was there but…

A piece of paper floated in front of his face. He wouldn't have bothered to snatch it out of the air, but it had his name on it. He read it quickly, wondering why it was written in red.

Three words. _Castiel, Surrender. Alastair. _Terror welled its way through him. He looked back at the Motel, clutching the paper in his fist.

"No," He whispered. "No." Seconds later he was at the door, knocking on it hurriedly.

Bobby opened the door, his brows creasing when he looked at the disheveled angel.

"Castiel, are you okay?" He asked.

"Where's Dean?" He asked, panic evident in his voice. Bobby frowned.

"You mean you don't know?" He asked.

"No!" Castiel exclaimed. "Please, where is he?" Bobby stepped aside. Castiel stepped forward.

When his eyes fell on his charge he gasped, shut his eyes and turned away. He looked outside the still open door and saw the bloodied barbed wire still under the light pole.

"No…" He said softly. "This is my fault. It's all my fault." Sam looked confused.

"What do you mean it's your fault?" He asked. Castiel didn't hear him.

"I'll kill him. I'll kill that damned son of a whore, I swear I will." He whispered through gritted teeth.

"Cas, what are you talking about?" Sam asked. Castiel looked at him, registering the piece of paper still in his hand. Reluctantly, he handed it to Sam.

Sam's face screwed up in anger that wasn't directed at the holy being before him. He looked up at him.

"Alastair did this?" He said. Castiel nodded solemnly, unable to tear his eyes away from Dean's battered body. Sam crushed the paper and threw it across the room.

"I'm sorry." Castiel said. Sam shook his head.

"You didn't know. It's not your fault." Sam assured. Once again, Castiel ignored him.

Dean's breathing was deep, his eyes closed, but Castiel could still see the damage done. He could see the bruises on his face, the bandages wrapped around his shoulder that disappeared under the blanket. The dark circles under his eyes, the gash in his busted lip, all of it. And he knew what the bandages were covering had to be so much worse. The tear tracks on the pillow underneath him made the angel bow his head.

"Sam, we need to find the car." Bobby said. Sam nodded.

"I'd go for you," Castiel said to the younger Winchester. "But I can't drive." Sam nodded again.

"Can you…?" He began, standing.

"I will stay with him, yes." Castiel said. Sam nodded gratefully and stood, taking one last look at his unconscious brother before following the older man out.

Castiel stood there in the silence, awful silence, hearing nothing but Dean's ragged breathing. He never thought he would miss Dean's usual smart remarks, or his cocky demeanor, or his defiance to everything Castiel told him to do. But all of those things made Dean Dean. That made him normal. It scared Castiel to see him like this. Scared him more than most of the things he had seen in his immortal life.

Dean moaned in his sleep and rolled on his side. Castiel went to him, instinct taking over without him truly thinking about the actions. He sat beside him on the bed, unsure of what to do.

Dean moaned again. Castiel grasped his hand, once again letting instinct take over.

"Dean," Castiel said softly. "It's alright. It's going to be alright. Just wake up."

"Don't…" Dean whimpered. Castiel's throat suddenly felt tight. "Please…Let me go…" Castiel swallowed hard.

"Dean, wake up…please." The pain in Dean's voice hurt him. Hurt him a lot. Dean's eyes opened but snapped shut again.

"'S too bright." He whispered. Castiel quickly stood and pulled the curtains closed, making the harsh sunlight a dim glow.

He sat back down, looking at his charge with fearful eyes. Dean allowed his own eyes to open.

He stared at the figure next to him, unsure why it wasn't Sam. Slowly, the man came into focus; he relaxed.

"Cas." He said, his voice gravelly.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." Castiel whispered.

"Why?" God it hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to blink. The angel shut his eyes and swallowed before he answered.

"They…They took you…because of me," He said. "There, there was a note that I assumed was left with you when they…tied you to that…" He took a deep breath. "It said: 'Castiel, surrender…Alastair'." He looked at the floor, unable to look Dean in the eye.

"Alastair took me?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded.

"Because of me. He hurt you to get to me," He mustered his strength and looked at him. "I am so sorry, Dean. For what they did to you. For how you feel right now," He shook his head. "I'm supposed to protect you, not…not to cause you harm. I am so sorry."

"Cas, no," Dean said, his voice hardly audible. "You didn't do this. You didn't have the knife, or the whip, you didn't-" Dean stopped, cursing himself for what he almost said. Before Castiel could ask him anything Dean suddenly arced off the bed, crying out in agony before falling back onto the bed, panting, tears in his eyes. Castiel put a hand on his forehead in a soothing gesture. Dean leaned into it, eyes closed.

The angel knew it wasn't his place to look in Dean's mind to see what he had gone through, but he needed to understand. Human emotions were a mystery to him, but he could try and understand them. But he needed to see first.

***

Dean hung there in the dark, mildly thinking that there was someone else in here with him. But maybe he was being paranoid.

He felt something brush against him. He tensed and looked around. So pointless. Something touched his face. Fingers, he recognized. He waited. Was this a dream? Please be a dream.

The fingers trailed up his arm. He tried to jerk away from them but he could barely move. The rough hand ran up and down his chest; the other was on his neck.

"Uhn!" Dean grunted, trying to wriggle away from them. "Stop it!" The hands didn't respond. The rough hands continued to explore him.

The right hand that had been working over his chest and stomach stopped at the small of his back.

"Stop! Please, leave me alone!" He pleaded. The hands didn't hear him. The one on his neck moved up his cheek, over his lips. Dean tugged his head back, hitting the wall behind him. The hand followed him. It thumbed his bottom lip, making Dean bite down on it. The hand wasn't fazed. It roamed to the other side of his face, touching his ear and his jaw. "Don't!" He yelped. The left hand stopped. But the right one removed itself from his back. Dean waited. Then he felt it again. Running up the inside of his uninjured leg. He became fully aware of the vulnerability his nakedness provided at that point.

"Pl-please!" He choked. The hand missed no part of him. He whimpered, trying to get away again. "Mmn! Not that, please, not that!" He begged. The left hand moved to his throat, the palm centered on his Adam's apple. The hand pushed his head up, baring his neck. Dean struggled against it, but his strength was gone. Lips now joined the equation.

They pressed against his throat, making him turn his head in shame. The lips continued to move across his throat, the hands still roamed freely. And he hung there, helpless.

"No! Leave me alone, please. Oh, please, please!" No response.

They did stop eventually. And Dean had never been more grateful to be alone. He sobbed against the wall, pulling his legs together.

"Help…somebody…"

***

Castiel saw this and everything else that happened to the eldest Winchester. He looked down at Dean, whose eyes were still closed, still leaning into Castiel's soothing hand. It felt cool against his fevered face. He rubbed Dean's forehead, blinking several times to get that a cursed water to back to where it came from.

"I will find them, Dean. I will find who did this to you. And I will make sure they suffer a thousand deaths for this." He said softly. Dean looked up at him, his eyes so tired, so very tired. Through those eyes he could see the decades of Hell he had endured. He could see how old Dean really was. And this had made it worse.

"I'll be alright, Cas." Dean assured. But his voice made it hard to believe.

He heard Bobby's truck and the Impala pull up outside. Dean turned, looking at the window.

"Dean," Castiel said. Dean looked at him again. "I can make this go away."

"What?" He rasped.

"I can heal you," The angel said. "Do you want me to?" Dean nodded.

"Please." He pleaded softly. Castiel laid his hand on his forehead again.

"Close your eyes and relax." He said. Dean obeyed. Castiel concentrated on wounds, taking deep breaths and pushing his celestial energy through his injured charge. He didn't hear Sam come in. He didn't hear Sam demand to know what was going on. He continued to yell at deaf ears and it wasn't until the second after Dean was healed that Sam grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" He bellowed.

"Sammy," Dean said, sitting up without even wincing. He grabbed the bandage on his neck and pulled it off, cutting off Sam's protests. The cut was gone, blood and all. "I'm fine."

"You," Sam looked down at the angel, taking his hand off of him. "You healed him." Castiel nodded. A long lapse of silence passed between them.

"Hey, uh, Sammy?" Dean said. "Can you go grab my bag? I'd like to be able to stand up without blinding you guys." He smirked. Sam broke into a grin against his will. He nodded and walked outside.

"Did you need something, Cas?" Dean asked. Castiel shook his head and stood.

"It can wait." He turned to leave.

"Cas," The angel turned. "Please, don't tell Sam what you saw." Castiel pursed his lips and looked down. He'd been discovered.

"I won't." He said. He turned again.

"Cas," Castiel turned again. "Thank you." Dean whispered. An echo of a pained smile crossed his lips.

"You're welcome," He said. "I just wish I could make the memories go away too." Dean nodded solemnly.

"So do I." He said softly.

There was a fluttering sound and the angel was gone.

Sam came back in, Dean's bag in hand.

"You sure you're okay?" He asked, setting the bag down on the bed. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, I just wanna know who hit me on the head. I wasn't in some alley or something. I was on a sidewalk. Demons can't erase people's memories, can they?" He asked.

"Who cares?" Sam said. "You're alive, you're okay. Why should it matter?" Dean shrugged.

"Doesn't. Guess it'll be one of life's big mysteries."

"Yeah." Sam said. Dean grabbed his bag.

"Thank God," He said, grabbing a T-shirt. "Never thought I'd seriously miss these." He chuckled. Sam tried to. He looked at his big brother, knowing that Dean was keeping something from him, bottling something up. And this time, it wasn't about Hell.

***

He walked away from the Motel after the old man went in the room, turning a corner before he nearly ran into the man he had been looking for.

"I should've known that angel would fix him." He said, seething. The man shook his head.

"I told you. We should have just taken_ him_ to begin with. Now _that's _a warning." The man said.

"No," He said. "This was definitely enough. Castiel will be weakened because of this."

"By how much?" The man asked. "He'll bounce back soon enough." He scowled at him.

"Thank you for the optimism." He growled.

"I'm just telling you how it is. No need to sugar coat it." There was a beat of silence.

"So you think he suspects anything?" He asked.

"Would you relax?"

"I will not relax, Alastair!" He boomed. Alastair sighed.

"No, Uriel. He doesn't suspect a thing," He said. "At least, from you. He thinks it was all me."

"All I did was knock him out and make some monkeys forget." Uriel defended.

"Yes, but it was your idea." Alastair said.

"But we're the only ones that will ever know that, right?" Uriel threatened.

"I'll take it to the grave." Alastair said, placing his hand over his heart.

"As will I." Uriel said. Alastair smirked.

"Swear to God?" He mocked. But the angel was gone. Moments later, Alastair disappeared into the crowd, grinning at what he knew he had done to Dean. He had made him his one last time.

**END**

--Ok, this is seriously the end this time. Feedback, please--


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